Mad Things Girls Do Translated by Hermione Granger
by hanyouinlove
Summary: Lesson one: If she's angry it's your fault, no matter what. Just remember that. Oh, and you're always wrong, that's important to keep in mind as well. -Hermione pretends to date Draco to get Ron's attention, but ends up a bit in over her head...-HGRW
1. Introduciton

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter's magnificence. It all, unfortunately for me, belongs to JKR. I do, however, like to borrow Harry every once in a while for some goodhearted fun… (hehehe)

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**"Mad Things Girls Do" Translated by Hermione J. Granger.

Introduction

First off, let me thank you for picking up this book, even if it was just to flip through the first few pages or so. It's a step in the right direction. Maybe you don't think you need to read this guide because you already know all there is to know about women, but chances are you do need to read this, since you picked it up in the first place instead of leaving it on the shelf. Whether you are a curious male hoping that maybe the reason she didn't go on a second date really was for personal reasons and had nothing to do with the unsightly way you slurped your soup at dinner that night, or a doubtful female who wonders what right I have divulging our secrets, I firmly believe my advice can help and make believers of you all.

Now that all that's settled, let me make my first point absolutely clear (I will put this in a bold font and even go so far as to italicize it for the particularly thickheaded males who might be reading):

_**While there are many lessons to be learned regarding the seemingly nonsensical actions of the female sex, there is, however, only one rule: ********Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And she will blame **__you_ for it.

Understood? Splendid.

Now, for those of you still reading, we have a lot of work to do. Let's begin with Lesson One, shall we?


	2. Lesson One

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter... sobs uncontrolably **

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_Lesson One:FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, OPEN YOUR EYES!!_

If you think she's exceedingly nice, she's _flirting_ with you! Other than that, a girl really has no reason to be _that _nice to a guy. I mean, _honestly_! Guys are so thick!

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_Bloody hell…_ This class is boring. I've already read the chapter on Werewolves… _Three _times. I guess that's what Ron would call being an 'over-achiever', and I guess he's right. I look around the room. Everyone else is still reading. Everyone except for Ron, Harry, and me that is. They know I'll just let them copy my notes later tonight, so what do they have to worry about? After all, that's what I'm here for…

Ron's half asleep, as usual, his head in his hands, and draped lazily over his DADA book. Poor thing… Had to stay up late last night to finish a Charms essay, which I _still_ ended up writing most of. (He woke up thinking he had been sleep-writing and came to the brilliant conclusion that he should sleep through every class because judging by his work on the essay, he was 'bloody fantastic' in his sleep… I had just rolled my eyes…) He twitched a little and a string of drool seeped out from his parted lips and landed without a sound on his book cover. Who knows how many Weasleys had fallen asleep on that DADA book? Quite a few by the looks of the cover and it's numerous spit stains.

Harry was awake, though. His green eyes were fixed on something near the front of the room. I followed his gaze, but I couldn't see anything interesting there… Unless Harry was looking at Draco Malfoy, but I highly doubted that. I stared at Harry a while longer. He must have felt my eyes on him because he turned in my direction and smiled. I smiled back and then looked away. I wonder if he knows how beautiful his eyes really are… I should tell him… No, that would be too blunt, even for me.

I sighed quietly and looked back down at my notes. Five pages, neatly written, all organized by chapter, page number, and subject matter… And then it all seemed so silly. Why do I spend so much of my time on schoolwork when I could be more like Ron or Harry and just mooch off other people? I guess that's because _I'm _the one people mooch off of and without me, no one would get anything done… I guess that makes me important… Sort of…

There is some movement at the front of the room. I look up and see Malfoy's finished the chapter and is leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the table in front of him. He rested his head on the table behind him, at which sat Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was never far from Malfoy at all times, like an extremely obedient golden retriever except not nearly as smart or attractive. She took a lock of his platinum blonde hair in her stubby fingers and twirled it as she rocked forward in her chair and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and smiled up at her, then looked away again, patiently letting Pansy braid and un-braid that strand of hair.

"Sick…" came a whisper from my left.

I turned to Ron. He was watching Malfoy and Pansy with a grimace of disgust on his face.

"I don't know…" I whispered back to him, folding my hands under my chin. "I think it's kind of… sweet."

He looked at me like I had sprouted another head. "_Sweet_?" he hissed.

I nodded slightly. "Yeah… It shows that even someone as horrible as Malfoy has someone to love him…" I replied softly.

Ron shook his head and muttered "_Girls_!" He looked at me sideways, a half-smile on his lips.

I smiled back and nudged him with my elbow. He laid his head back down on his book and shut his eyes again. " 'Mione?" he asked quietly.

"Mmhmm?"

"Promise me you'll never braid my hair?" He smiled again and opened one eye, to see my reaction.

I grinned and nodded. "I promise…"

"Good. I don't think I could take that." He shut his eyes once more. "Oh, and could you wake me up five minutes before class ends?"

"Of course," I responded. After all, what was I here for except to play personal alarm clock for Ronald Weasley? But I really didn't mind. It wasn't like I was going to be doing anything else for the entire class period.

So I watched Ron sleep. Not in a creepy way… But just in a… _curious_ way. The way his back rose and fell with each breath. The way his lips twitched at the corners and his eyes moved back and forth behind their lids. The way his hair fell in his face and over the cover of his book. He looked so angelic. So unlike how he usually looked, it was almost unnerving. I wondered what he was dreaming about…

I reached out to brush a stray hair out of his face, not really realizing what I was doing. A snort came from the front of the room, and I looked up, startled.

Malfoy and Pansy were staring at me. Pansy was stifling a snicker behind her hand, but wasn't doing a very good job of it, I could still hear her, as could anyone else who happened to not be paying attention to his or her bookwork, but luckily for me, that was only Malfoy, Pansy, and I. (Harry was reading a comic under his desk, so thankfully, all his attention was focused on that and Ron was still sleeping.) Pansy smirked and made a heart with her thumbs and forefingers and held it out in front of her face, one eye squinted shut and her tongue stupidly poking out of the side of her mouth, obviously placing Ron and me in the center of her makeshift frame. I frowned at her and ground my teeth, but that only made her laugh harder. She poked Malfoy in the arm and pointed at us. He nodded and smirked, but his eyes looked distant, like they weren't really looking at me, but past me.

And then Ron woke up wondering why he hadn't taken any notes in his sleep.

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"I wish I could have been there," Ginny whispered to me after I had recounted the whole DADA episode. She shook her head as she grabbed a chicken leg and put it on her plate. "I would have said something, or at least hexed them, or something, I don't know."

"Yeah, well…" There wasn't much I could say. The whole 'heart-frame-thing' really shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. Ron and I were just friends, no matter what Pansy and Malfoy thought. No matter what _anyone _thought.

My eyes drifted Ron's way. The way he ate was sickening. He had barely chewed his bite of chicken before another bite when in, his fork poised over his mashed potatoes, ready to dig in when he freed up some space in his black hole of a mouth.

"Wipe your mouth," I commanded him as I speared a rogue pea with one of the prongs of my fork.

He frowned in my direction, but complied with my order, taking his napkin from his lap and swiping it viciously over his face before attacking his roll.

I sighed and put my chin in my hand, twirling my fork in the potato remains, swirling little waves in the gravy and piling heaps of potatoes one on top of the other…

"… right?"

I glanced up to see Harry staring intently at me from across the table with a concerned look on his face. "I said, 'Are you all right?' Usually, you correct Ron's eating habits more than once a meal," he joked.

"Hey, I eat just fine!" Ron objected through a mouthful of bread as his hand shot out to grab another roll before the dinner plates were replaced with desert.

I managed a feeble eye roll. "Fine, I'm fine." I gave Ginny a look out of the corner of my eye. She returned the look with a flippant shake of her red hair and a shrug of her shoulders before launching into a long and involved conversation with Harry about Quidditch.

I ceased molding my potatoes into a small, but surprisingly accurate, model of Krakatoa and laid my fork gently on the edge of my plate. "Actually, I think I'll spend my free period sleeping," I said to no one in particular as I stood and untangled my legs from the bench. I accidentally kneed Ginny in the side, but she was too busy flirting with Harry to notice, so I didn't interrupt with meaningless apologies.

Really the boy was impossible. No matter how hard Ginny batted her scant eyelashes or how many times she gently touched his arm, as if to emphasize a point in their conversation, Harry remained tortuously unaware. And it drove Ginny insane. I would have helped, but she made me promise not to tell him about her feelings. She even tried to get me to make the Unbreakable Vow, but I convinced her to swear on a pinky promise instead, telling her it was the muggle equivalent. There was no need to shed too much blood over the matter. It was only love after all, and love, as I have come to decide, is highly overrated.

I gathered my books and headed towards the door. None of my friends seemed to notice that I had left. As I passed by the Slytherin table, I did my best impression of a sneer in Malfoy and Pansy's direction. Pansy returned the gesture with her own equally nasty gesture. But Malfoy did something peculiar:

He actually smiled at me.


	3. Lesson Two

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my weird ideas...

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_Lesson Two: Just because a girl is a bitch doesn't mean you have to call her one._

That's just rude and uncalled for.

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_There was a party going on the common room that I apparently wasn't invited to. Not that I would go even if I _were_ invited, but it's the thought that counts.

So I lay on my bed, still in my uniform, shoes and all, and stared at the canopy. I folded my hands under my head and sighed heavily. I could hear Harry downstairs singing 'Dancing Queen' in his best breathy drag queen impersonation. Merlin, he must be drunk. His voice cracked on the chorus and I could hear the crowd downstairs erupt with laughter. It must be nice being so carefree and sure of yourself. In other words, it must be nice being Harry Potter. Well, aside from the fact that You-Know-Who is trying to do him in, I mean.

I sighed again dramatically and turned over on my side to face the door to the dormitory and repositioned my hands so that they were under my pillow and propping my head up. Harry finished singing and I could hear people clapping and whistling.

"Encore, encore!" someone below shouted.

"Never again!" responded Harry loudly. I could imagine him shaking his head as he hopped down off of whatever table he had used as his makeshift stage. "Ron's turn!" he shouted gleefully. Someone, most likely Seamus, started up a round of chanting and soon the whole common room was screaming Ron's name and pounding his or her fists on the furniture.

"Alright, alright!" I heard Ron yell. The crowd cheered once more and then fell silent, as if listening intently to something. I strained my ears trying to hear, but it was too quiet, whatever was happening down there. I _could_ just go down there and quell my curiosity. Just because I wasn't invited doesn't necessarily mean I was _un_invited. Maybe they just forgot me, is all. It's not a very civil thing to forget someone, but it's by no means a crime.

Upon coming to this conclusion, I sat up and swung my feet over to the edge of the bed. I stood and straightened my skirt before making my way to the door.

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I quietly opened the door to my room and stepped out onto the landing. By leaning over the railing, I could see that everyone was gathered around Harry and Ron in a large and rather amoeba-shaped circle. Harry was whispering something into Ron's ear, which was the reason for the room being so quiet. Ron's face went from pale to red as Harry talked. He finished and stepped back, his arms folded across his chest and a smug smile on his lips.

Ron stepped back and folded his arms to mirror Harry. "I don't think that's such a great idea," he said quietly to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Either do the dare or take the shot." He gestured over his shoulder to a bottle of Firewhiskey Lavender Brown held in her outstretched hand. My guess was that Harry had passed on quite a few dares, most likely dealing with snogging one of his fangirls. Poor guy. With all those girls wanting to kiss you, it must be infuriating having them sulking around corners and in dark alleys waiting to jump on your face at any given moment.

Ron shook his head, strands of red hair falling into his eyes. I could tell that he was less than eager to "take the shot." Ron had had a severe distaste for drinking ever since Fred and George caught him sneaking drinks from their mother's private bourbon stash summer going into fifth year, and proceeded to force-feed him the rest of the drink, bottle and all. Ron sighed and brushed the hair out of his face with the back of his hand. "No, no. I'll do it. She just needs-"

My door shut loudly behind me, cutting Ron off. I cringed as every head in the common room turned my way. I cleared my throat. "Erm… I just wanted to see what all the commotion was," I explained lamely. Just like me to make a totally nerdy grand entrance. For once, I'd like to just walk into a room and not be noticed for doing something spectacularly awkward.

"Heeeey, Hermione," Harry said, grinning. "You should, uh, come down and join the party…" He nudged Ron in the shoulder. "Ron has something he wants to tell you." He laughed and leaned his head on Ron's shoulder, squirming his head on the redhead's collarbone to get comfortable. A quiet giggle rippled through the crowd. Ron looked away towards the door as if he wished dearly that someone would come in and save him his humiliation, whatever it may be.

I placed my hand on the banister and began to walk down the stairs, carefully keeping my eyes on Harry and noticing the very obvious glances he was shooting in Ron's direction, which Ron wisely chose to ignore. "What's with you, Harry?"

He shrugged and picked his head up off Ron's shoulder, which he brushed off importantly before laying his arm across it. Ron staggered a bit under Harry's weight before adjusting himself with a glare of disapproval directed at the top of Harry's head. "Nothing," Harry slurred.

The crowd parted as I made my way up to them, my arms folded. "Harry, you're drunk," I said matter-of-factly, snatching the bottle of Firewhiskey out of Lavender's grasp. She too must have been more than slightly inebriated because she muttered something about giving back her boyfriend and how I always took the things she loved away from her before running up to our room, sobbing about what a "horrid bitch" I am.

Harry shrugged again and smiled. "So what if I am?" His head lolled to the side and he looked up at Ron with big puppy-dog eyes. "I love you, man," he said as he wrapped his skinny arms around Ron's waist. "I could hug you for hours." He buried his face in Ron's sweater and proceeded to gently rock back and forth.

The female Gryffindors, intoxicated and sober alike, began a round of "awws," many of which were followed by "I wish it was me he was holding on to like that." I laughed inwardly. This is probably the first time anyone has ever wished that they were Ronald Weasley and Ron wasn't even in the mood to enjoy the jealousy.

Ron groaned and untwined Harry from about his waist. "I can't do the dare if you're hanging on to me like a fucking monkey!" he hissed. Harry released his arms and let them swing loosely down at his sides. "Besides, I told you not to hug me in public anymore, Harry. Not since that time in Diagon Alley," Ron whispered so quietly in Harry's ear that I practically gave myself a hernia trying to eavesdrop. I wondered what Ron meant by that, and I would have asked him, but he grabbed my wrist unexpectedly and pulled me to him roughly.

"Ron, what the-?"

He silenced me most efficiently by pressing his lips against mine.


	4. Lesson Three

**Disclaimer: As the battered fanfiction writer sat tied in her chair, her captor paced back and forth before her, a hammer in his hand. "Just tell the truth," he said gently. "Just tell the truth and I won't have to use this." He held the black-handled hammer before her face. Her eyes went wide as she pleaded silently. He positioned the hammer over her index finer of her right hand. "No!!" she screamed. "I need that finger to type!!" He smiled. "Then tell the truth." The fanfiction writer hung her head in defeat.**

**"I don't own Harry Potter..."

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_Lesson Three: There is always a double standard.  
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And she'll never let you forget it.

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The room was silent. Everyone leaned forward expectantly, their lips pursed from the effort it took to suppress their laughter. Some weren't as successful as others in concealing their amusement and I could hear more than a few snickers at my expense.

I put my hands on Ron's chest and pushed him away, our lips disconnecting abruptly, leaving Ron looking very much like a llama in mid-spit. I, however, closed my mouth very tightly and crossed my arms over my chest. "Ronald, that was not funny," I scolded him through clenched teeth.

Harry began to clap, slowly at first, and then faster once a few more people joined in. Soon enough the whole common room was clapping and catcalling. I could hear Harry's voice rise above the rest. "Good show, Ron!" he cried. "Good show!"

I laughed mirthlessly and loudly. Slowly, the room grew silent once more, with the exception of Dean Thomas who let out one last, lone guffaw before Seamus elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah, Ron. Good show," I said bitterly.

Ron remained just as quiet as the rest of the room's occupants. I tried to stare him into submission, but surprisingly enough, he kept his eyes level with mine, causing _me _to almost drop my guard. "Come on, 'Mione," he said softly. "It was just a dare." Damn him! Who does he think he's trying to reason with? This is Hermione Granger, voted most likely to fly off the handle at any given moment for any given reason, for Merlin's sake. I'm not some gullible tramp like Lavender Brown, whom Harry had once completely convinced that he had lost his whole left arm in a horrible Quidditch accident by simply putting his arm behind his back whenever he saw her.

I ran my hands through my hair, my fingers snagging on the tangled ends. "I need to read." With this decided, I pushed past Ron and the rest of the crowd parted before me.

Ron turned. "The library's closed." He pointed to the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. "It's after hours." A few people laughed quietly at my foolishness and I was instantly thankful for the room's poor lighting, which concealed my growing blush of embarrassment flawlessly.

"Then I'll just take a walk, Ron!" I spat viciously before wrenching open the portrait hole and stepping out into the corridor, the toe of my sneaker catching on the uneven carpet and almost sending me sprawling. Luckily for me, there was no one outside and the door had already swung shut behind me, so there was little chance that any of those drunken twits in the common room had seen my amazing display of grace and elegance. Even the Fat Lady remained blissfully asleep in her frame.

"Nice one, Hermione," a voice whispered from the darkness.

I straightened myself up and peered down the hallway. "Ginny?" I squinted and felt around my pocket for my wand. With a pang of anger, I realized that I had left it in the dormitory on the bedside table. The last time I left my wand unattended, I found it a few hours later shoved down a toilet. I suspected Peeves was to blame, though I never had any concrete evidence.

Ginny giggled and threw Harry's invisibility cloak off her shoulders and onto the ground in a flourish. _"Lumos,"_ she said as the tip of her wand lit itself, making a small bubble of softly glowing light around the two of us. "Out on a dare, I suppose?" Ginny smiled.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't believe in such idiocy," I whispered meanly, taking out my anger towards Ron on the nearest available Weasley. "These childish games are for the rude and immature and I am certainly glad that you are not a participant of this mindless nonsense. But please, do tell me why you're holding a head of lettuce in your hand."

She grinned sheepishly and held up the lettuce she had previously been trying to hide behind her back before I could see it. "I'm rude and immature?" she guessed with a shrug. "Parvati dared me to sneak out to the kitchen swipe it." She tossed it to her other hand and back like a ball.

I groaned and leaned against the wall next to me, my hand on my forehead. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just…"

"Angry at my brother," she finished for me with a knowing nod. "I figured. Usually, you don't go off at me. Or poor, innocent heads of lettuce." She thrust the vegetable in my face and I shied away with a small smile. "You hurt Mikey's feelings!" she said.

I gave her a disappointed look. "Are you drunk, too?"

Ginny laughed quietly and shook her head. "No, but it's a long way from the kitchens and the corridors are lonely at night," she joked as she stroked the outer leaves of lettuce with her pinky. I folded my arms across my chest and tapped my foot impatiently. Ginny cracked. "Okay, so I'm a _little_ drunk." She squinted one eye and held her index finger and thumb up about half an inch away from one another. "I didn't want to kiss Neville… or Seamus, or Dean… You don't think I'm a bad person, do you?" She looked at me pleadingly.

"No, of course not." I assured her. Harry did the same thing, after all, so I can't really be mad at Ginny, now can I. "Just go back inside and give Parvati her… lettuce," I told her as I have her a small push in the direction of the portrait hole.

"Wait!" she turned back to face me and shoved the lettuce in my face once more. "Kiss Mikey goodnight!" she ordered stubbornly.

"Oh great, just what I wanted: Yet _another_ make-out session with a vegetable," I muttered to myself. Ginny gave me a perplexed look, which I dismissed with a wave of my hand. "I'll embellish tomorrow, okay?" _When you're sober._ I added in my head.

She wiggled the head of lettuce in my face and didn't waver. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath before brushing my lips lightly against the vegetable's papery surface. "There. Happy?"

Ginny nodded and turned to wake the Fat Lady. "Frogs' Breath!" she said excitedly before the portrait had time to complain about being woken at such a late hour. She opened to admit Ginny.

"Parvati!" Ginny yelled as she stepped over the threshold, Mikey the head of lettuce held high above her head. "I got someone to kiss the lettuce! Can I come back inside now?" Then, thankfully, the portrait swung shut, leaving me and my misery alone in the pitch-black hallway.

With a shake of my head, I bent down and retrieved the invisibility cloak that Ginny had dropped, forgotten, on the floor. I threw it around my shoulders, just in case, and made my way down the hall in darkness, trailing my fingers on the wall.

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I had only been walking aimlessly for a few minutes before I heard a shuffling around the bend front of me. I stopped and pulled the cloak over my head before peeking around the corner, making sure to keep my body as close to the wall as possible.

A few meters ahead, I could see a faint glimmer of light coming from a wand laying on the floor next to a large lump that could only be someone sitting on the floor, their back up against the wall and their head in their hands. As I crept closer, hoping to find out who it was, they raised their head and spoke, their soft voice seeming loud in the empty hall.

"Granger, take off that useless rag."

I was taken aback, but for some reason, I slipped the invisibility cloak down do my shoulders without hesitation. "What are you doing out here in corridor, Malfoy?" I sneered. "Trying to pick up a girl?"

He turned towards me. "Well, you're the only girl I can see around here." He gestured halfheartedly down the hall to his right and left, and then rested his elbows on his knees.

I shuffled my feet and waited for him to continue with some cheeky remark about how I wasn't much of a girl anyway, but he didn't. He just looked forward again and was silent. I cleared my throat. "Why are you out here?" I asked him again.

Malfoy sighed and shrugged. "I like the dark." He looked at me once more. "Why are _you_ out here?"

"Just taking a walk." There was no need to tell Malfoy my life (or lack there of) story. I removed the invisibility cloak from around me and held it loosely in my hand as I went over to him and sat against the opposite wall. "How did you know it was me?"

He snorted. "I could see your feet. You really ought to buy some new shoes. Honestly, Granger, those are disgusting." He rolled his eyes, but not in a mean way. More like in a playful way, which confused me, possibly more than anything else that had happened that night.

I self-consciously tucked my legs underneath me, hiding my trainers self-consciously under the folds of my skirt. "Since when are you the first authority in footwear?" I joked, looking pointedly at his own ragged pair of high tops, which looked extra dingy in the dim light.

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a small smile of amusement. He reached down and pulled on the dirty laces of his sneakers. "They work for me." He released them and began toying with a hole in the rubber sole.

I nodded. After a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence, I decided it was past time for me to leave. "This has been… interesting, Draco," I said as I began to stand up, making sure that my skirt wasn't hiked up in the front. Draco Malfoy was probably the absolute _last _person I'd ever want to see my knickers, either on or off my body.

"I broke up with Pansy." He said suddenly as turned to me, his gray eyes shining yellow in the wand-light.

"Why are you telling _me_ that?" I blurted. It was meant as a question, but it came out sounding more like an accusation and he took it as such.

Malfoy sneered. "I feel like it, Granger. Do I have to have a reason?" He leaned his head back on the wall behind him and laughed quietly. "Go back to bed, Hermione. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

I stared down at him angrily, thinking of a smart comeback, but as usual, nothing came to mind, so I grimaced at him before stomping away. It wasn't until I found myself back at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room that I realized that he had called me Hermione.

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**a/n: I actually have a friend who convinced another one of our friends that he had lost his arm in a rock climbing accident by holding the supposed missing limb behind his back. I can't make that stuff up.**


	5. Lesson Four

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**a/n: I know some people are concerned that this story is becoming more and more of a DMHG fic, but I promise all those Ron lovers out there (of which I am a fellow) that I put this story in the correct category. So have faith in me! Continue to be lovely and review!**

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_Lesson Four: Never engage a girl in a fight._

You'll never win.

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Fuck notes. I know I'm not taking any today, or for the rest of the year, if I can help it. Let Ron and Harry rot in a thousand Hells of failure for all I care, I will not lift my quill, no matter how much Harry pouts or how many dirty looks Ron attempts to shoot at me. I will not let them cheat off me anymore. I should have done this a lot sooner. Being a bitch is so empowering.

To avoid both Ron and Harry, I had to bribe Neville to let me have his seat next to Luna in every class we share with Ravenclaw. I went ahead and paid him 20 Galleons in advance for the next two weeks. I plan on holding this grudge to its fullest.

Even when walking down the hall, I make sure that I am surrounded on all sides by fellow Gryffindor females who can somehow manage to chatter at a constant rate of five words per second _and_ walk without running into walls at the same time. Ron and Harry won't even have the chance to _attempt_ to speak to me.

Of course, all my efforts were in vain the one time I tried to roam the halls by my lonesome. It was just after Muggle Studies, so I was on my way to Arithmancy when Ron cornered me. Quite literally, actually: He shoved me into a corner and held me there so I couldn't escape.

"I don't understand why you're so angry at me," he said as he grasped my shoulders and furrowed his brow in a pitiful attempt to look serious. But to look serious, one actually has to have the capacity of _being_ serious, which I doubt Ron has. So he mostly just looked constipated.

I rolled my eyes and shrugged out from under his hands, making sure my shoulder jabbed hard into his arm as I flounced by. "Fuck you, Ronald Weasley." That should leave anything left unsaid clear enough, I believe.

He stared after me, smiling smugly to himself. He folded his arms and said loudly, "That would be awkward." Merlin, he's had this comeback prepared, he was just waiting until someone said the initial insult.

I stopped and turned back to face him. As usual, the witty part of my brain was out of order, so I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be exceedingly embarrassing. "It doesn't have to be." I then mentally smacked myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand… Hard.

He started. "What?"

"What?" I repeated, my eyes wide, trying to look innocent.

He took a step towards me, his victorious smile replaced by a frown of confusion. "You just said-."

"No I didn't." I interrupted. Not giving him time to say anything else, I turned once again and practically sprinted down the corridor away from him with my head bent down. I believe the technical term would be 'scurried.' But at least I won the argument… Didn't I? Though I embarrassed myself quite completely, I _did_ render him speechless, which is a victory in itself…

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****I sat alone during Potions later that day, having no one else to sit with because all my friends either hated me, or had another class. I said that like I actually had more than three friends. A better way to phrase that would have been: Two of my friends hate me, and the third doesn't have this class. But I digress…

I can feel Harry staring at me, pleadingly because he's hopeless at making Pepperup Potion. I can feel Ron glaring at me, angrily because I'm infuriating or some other nonsense. And I can feel another pair of eyes, simply watching me as I add the final ingredient into my cauldron, probably to see what I'm doing so that they can copy me.

With a final stir, I lay my wand down and fold my hands across the desk. There's no need to raise my hand, Snape's already on his way over to inspect my work for any mistakes: Too much of one ingredient, not enough of another. Too dark a colour, too light. Too many stirs, too few. It's like the man has some internal radar that tells him when a student has finished their assignment so that he may sally forth and berate them for the terrible job they did.

Alas, poor Sevvy, I haven't made any mistakes. Perhaps next time…

I hear Harry sigh from behind and slightly to the left of me as Snape, with a sneer of disappointment leaves my table and moves on to Harry and Ron's. I smile to myself as Snape begins his daily "Oh-so-the-'Chosen-One'-has-decided-that-he's-too-good-to-make-potions-properly" tirade. Today's has a bit of variation. Some "worthless slacker"-s and a "good for nothing father" thrown in here and there, to add excitement to an otherwise un-amusing class period.

Snickers came from the Slytherin side of the room, accompanied by groans from the Gryffindors, as Snape saw fit to take 10 points from Gryffindor for Ron's "disrespectful breathing." Snape glided away triumphantly, satisfied that he'd belittled the great Harry Potter enough for the time being.

"Load of help you are, Hermione," Ron leaned over his desk and whispered meanly.

"Calm down, Ron," I heard Harry order him as he pulled him back down into his seat by the back of his robe. Ron exhaled indignantly and resumed glaring at the back of my head while Harry busied himself with cleaning up their station. With only ten minutes left in the period, there was no way they could fix that bungle of a potion, so just trashing it and taking a zero for the day was probably all for the best.

A flying bit of paper interrupted my thoughts.

It smacked me gently upside the head and landed on the desk before me. I stiffened. Great, so now I was verging on absolutely friendless _and_ having random bits of paper being thrown at me! Maybe I should skip lunch for fear of having pumpkin juice poured on me in some sadistic rendition of that muggle movie, _Carrie_.

I stared down at the paper, unmoving. I noticed that there was writing on the inside of the crumpled ball. _Probably hate mail_, I thought as I slowly smoothed the paper out.

_Hermione,_

_Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?_

_Draco_

I wish it were hate mail.


	6. Lesson Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. (I do, however, own Larry Dotter, but he's not as interesting...)**

**a/n: Thanks for all the reviews so far, they mean a lot to me!!**

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_Lesson Five: __If she's mad at you, she's got a reason._

Though you may think otherwise, girls always have one reason or another to be mad at a guy. Never ask her why she's angry, even if you don't know. Trust me: it's always your fault. Just apologize and she'll get over it eventually.

* * *

I look around me, my shoulder's hunched over the note so that no prying eyes could see it if they happened to be passing my desk. With a frown, I looked down at the paper again, just to make sure I had read it correctly the first time. Was I absolutely positive it said "will you go to Hogsmeade with me?" or did it say something more along the lines of "I hate you, go die in a corner, you filthy mudblood?" Nope. It said, "will you go to Hogsmeade with me." Damn.

My eyes wandered over to the Slytherin side of the room and fell on my newly discovered secret admirer. He sat with his legs propped up on the table before him, his pale hands folded in his lap. He laughed casually at something said by Blaise Zabini. His gray eyes turned to meet mine and his smile widened ever so slightly. Did he just wink, or was that just my imagination acting up again?

"For homework," Snape began with a cruel grin, "an essay on the uses of Pepperup Potion. Two feet of parchment, due… tomorrow." Harry and Ron groaned silently behind me. I quickly scribbled down the assignment on a scrap piece of parchment and began packing my things away, hoping to escape before anyone noticed me (and by "anyone," I mostly just meant Ron or Malfoy).

I had just made it into the hallway when I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me into an alcove behind a suit of armor. Naturally, I opened my mouth to protest loudly and obscenely, but another hand (presumably the companion to the first) shot out and covered my face. I tried the age-old trick of licking the hand, but it didn't move, not to mention it tasted like ink. Needless to say, I gave up fairly quickly.

Soon, all the Potions students had passed by my abductor and me without the slightest notice and the halls fell silent. The hands released me, and I whipped around to confront whomever it was that had so unceremoniously kidnapped me. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded indignantly.

Malfoy ignored my question. "You got my note, right?" His pale face barely visible in a shadow cast by the armor looked bored, at best.

I rolled my eyes and shifted my books in my arms. "Yes," I answered testily. "Is it supposed to be some kind of joke? Because I'm really not in the mood for this sort of… immature behavior right now." I tossed my hair to show him just how serious I was.

"If you don't want to go with me, then just say so!" he spat, his eyes shining in the darkness.

I drew back from him, his sudden outburst surprising me. "That's not…" I began, then stopped, thinking it better if I took the offensive route with this one. My inner bitch reprimanded me, but I calmed her by resolving to kick Ron or no apparent reason the next time I saw him. "Can I have some time to think?" I asked instead.

Malfoy thought a moment, and then nodded. "I need an answer by Friday afternoon at the latest," he told me. "That still gives me time to find another date if you decline." He smirked and squeezed past me out into the corridor, giving me just enough time to feel his body against mine and make my knees go all wobbly, which was probably his intention.

"Sure," I called after him breathlessly. "Can't leave the great Malfoy without a date."

He chuckled softly to himself. "Of course not," he replied as he walked away, leaving me confused and standing behind a suit of armor like the complete loon that I was.

* * *

I arrived late to lunch, and just my luck, the only open seat was next to Ron, so naturally, I squeezed my fat arse in between Harry and Ginny, much to Ginny's dismay. I made a mental note to make it up to her later.

"Why're you late?" Ron demanded, his mouth full of turkey sandwich.

"Why do you care?" I answered, doing my best impression of Ron, which, coincidentally, was also my best impression of a troll. Well, maybe it wasn't much of a coincidence.

Ron sneered and resumed shoving food in his black hole of a mouth without pause. It was amazing he didn't choke or accidentally bite off a finger, really.

Harry leaned over and whispered discreetly in my ear. "Hermione, lighten up on Ron," he begged. "He's been bitching my ear off about it all day. Said you said something weird in the corridor earlier?" I blanched and coughed into my pumpkin juice, some flying out of the cup and splattering my cheeks. "Wouldn't tell me what though…"

"Well, I couldn't guess what he means. I haven't talked to him all day," I lied as I unfolded my napkin and swiped it across my face.

Harry shrugged. "You should still talk to him," he suggested as he reached out for another handful of grapes. "He's starting to get on my nerves."

I shook my hair furiously, apologizing absently when I heard Ginny's shrill complaint that I had hit her in the eye. "I'm not going to talk to him until he apologizes," I said to Harry.

"All right then, I'll tell him to apologize." Harry turned away and began talking with Dean and Seamus about an interesting article about Quidditch he had read in the _Prophet _over the weekend.

I grabbed Harry by the shoulder and turned him back around to face me. "Wait… You're just going to tell him to apologize?" Harry nodded. "And he'll do it?" He nodded again and gave me a strange look as if what he had just said made complete sense, which it didn't. Even Ron's own mother had to enchant him just to clean his room. The only ones that I had ever seen Ron obey without question were Fred and George, but that was mostly because they threatened him with pain and or embarrassment. "It _can't_ be that easy."

Harry crinkled his nose and shrugged. "He'll do it if I tell him it means a lot to me if the two of you weren't angry with each other."

I frowned and let go of Harry's shoulder. He immediately turned back around and jumped right into his previous conversation with Seamus and Dean.

If only everything were really as simple as Harry thought it was…

* * *

"Hermione! Wait up!" I heard Ron call after me as I pushed through a crowd of twittering Hufflepuff first years on my way out of the dining room in an effort to ditch him. He was slowly but surely becoming my worst nightmare of the moment.

Harry must have talked to him. But if he was going to start following me around like a puppy trying to apologize, I would rather him be angry and leave me alone.

I stopped walking reluctantly, but just long enough for him to catch up to me. Once he was beside me, I continued at my original brisk pace. His arm brushed mine and I instinctively hugged my potions book tighter to my chest, willing myself not to look at him.

"What do you want? I'm running late." I began to walk faster, hoping that that would be enough to get him to go away, but no such luck. Ron never gets the hint… What is it with boys and this need to have everything spelled out in front of them before they can comprehend what's happening?

"It's a free period. Are you telling me you have _plans_?" Ron smiled crookedly and quickened his pace to match mine. He looked to me out of the corner of his eye to see if I was smiling. I wasn't.

He shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. "Well, anyway… I was just wondering if you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" He smiled again. I wish he'd stop. It's making me really hard to hate him when his smile is so adorable… Must. Stay. Strong. I'm fighting for all womankind, here!

I stopped in my tracks so suddenly Ron had accidentally walked past me and had to backtrack. I looked him square in the eye and said, "No."

Ron ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Why? Is it Harry's turn?" I snorted. Harry's turn, indeed.

I started walking again. "No. It's no one's _turn_!" I spat. "I'm not you _or_ Harry's personal piece of arm candy that can be displayed at your discretion! Are you just trying to flatter me into accepting your lack of apology?"

" 'Mione, please. Wait!" He grabbed my shoulder. Oh bugger, he looks sad… I can't stand it when he's sad… Not only does he make my life a living hell with his whining and complaining, but for some inexplicable reason… seeing him sad makes me sad too. Well, thus is the curse of being a caring human being, I suppose.

"Well, I'm waiting…" I said softly, and grinding my teeth together, just to show him how much I loathe standing here in the deserted corridor with his hands on my shoulders and his face inches from my own.

"I'm sorry." He exhaled a breath in my face that smelled vaguely reminiscent of cinnamon. He might eat like a heathen, but at least he's got the decency to chew a stick of gum before going around and breathing in random people's faces.

I tapped my foot impatiently. "For…?"

He gave me a puzzled grimace. "Forrrr… Thinking of you as 'arm candy'?"

"No, you twit!" I rolled my eyes in disgust and attempted to stomp angrily away from him, but failed miserably and just ended up tripping and dropping my book. "Brilliant…" I muttered as I bent down to gather the book and the various pages of notes I had tucked in there for safekeeping. Now I'll have to re-organize them, which should take all break… Ron happened to be correct in assuming that I didn't have any fantastic plans, or anything, but still, it's the principle of the whole matter. What if I _did_ have fantastic plans?

Ron rushed to my side, and began picking up the scraps of paper. "So… I'm still sorry…" He looked up from the floor and handed me a stack of my notes.

I snatched the papers from his hands and stuffed them back in my potions book. "Even though you don't remember why?"

Ron sighed and handed me another messy stack of papers. "No. I do remember… It's just that…" He paused and I heard him breathe in sharply. I looked up to see him looking at a piece of paper… A very, shall we say…_incriminating_ piece of paper.

"Ron, look-." I began, all my anger towards him vanishing in an instant.

"Save it," he spat as he stood. The pile of notes he had in his hand slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a flutter.

"Ron, wait!" Oh hell, now _I _was begging _him_ to wait. What a grand day_ this _was turning out to be.

He slowed and turned his head slightly, like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind, giving his red hair a shake instead as he walked down the corridor and out of sight.

A sigh escaped my lips once more as I looked down at Malfoy's note.

"Well… shit."


	7. Lesson Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any other related merchandise.

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_Lesson six: 'That time of the month' is not a myth.  
_

Treat each situation with a afflicted female cautiously, as you don't want to be stabbed or lose an appendage in confrontation. Never let your guard down and remain wary. You never know when she might turn on you.

* * *

I wasn't even going to pretend that seeing Ron upset didn't hurt me, it did. But I could at least pretend that I didn't care. I was doing fairly well at pretending to not care until I had to look at his sorry face when we were partnered together for Charms and a wave of blundering stupidity hit me head on.

"Don't just sit there like a stupid git," he snapped at me while taking every precaution not to look me in the face. I quickly shut my gaping mouth. "Give me your book."

"Here," I tried to say nastily and slid my book across the desk in his general direction. I rested my chin in my hands, trying not to look at Ron as he was doing with me, but wasn't having as much success. Every time I forced my eyes away from his face as he bit his lips in concentration and stared down at the book, his hand swish and flickering his wand sporadically as he attempted to learn the spell we were supposed to have already mastered the night before, they inadvertently fell on the ferrety visage of Draco Malfoy.

"I know you fancy him and all, but could you please try not to drool on the table?" Ron spat as he stood and dropped the book on the desk before me, causing me to jump violently and a few people to look questioningly back in our direction. Harry, who was partnered with Lavender Brown, frowned at me from where he and Lavender were already practicing across the room. Lavender took the opportunity while he was distracted to jinx him and Harry, his eyes going wide, fell to the ground in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

I gritted my teeth and stood up, choosing to ignore Ron's snide comments. "Let's just go practice, okay?" After a second of thought, I added, "And don't talk to me." There. I win. Too bad Ron wasn't keen on giving up without a proper fight.

"I won't have a reason to talk to you if you don't talk to me, now will I?" he retorted. His logic was uncharacteristically thoughtful, so I shut my mouth. I'll let him have this round.

We made it to the back of the room where all the desks had been pushed against the wall to make a sort of arena for our practice and turned to face one another, our wands drawn.

"Are you ready?" I started to ask him, but was interrupted by a flying hex and found words incredibly hard to come by whilst hanging upside down in midair. Instead, I shouted, "You git! That's bad form!" He just laughed as I tried desperately to hold my skirt down.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Harry asked, shoving Ron's shoulder and muttering the counter curse in my general direction. I fell to the floor, but managed to land in such a way where my knickers weren't on public display. I think I should get a point for _that _at least.

Ron shrugged and looked down at his wand. "Must've backfired."

I scrambled to my feet and aimed my own wand at his chest. "The hell it did! _Oppugno_!" The spell hit Ron squarely in the chest in the form of a hundred or so tarantulas. Ron commenced screaming like a little girl as the rest of the class took a giant collective step back from the unfolding scene.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled over Ron's shrieks as he tried desperately to knock the spiders off by flailing his arms and jumping up and down. One flew off and hit Harry in the face, knocking his glasses askew.

"What is going on here?" Professor Flitwick squeaked, trying to push his way through the crowd of students. "I leave for one minute…" He left his sentence unfinished and said the counter curse. The tarantulas disappeared with a pop. He turned towards me and the look on his face was almost enough to cause me to burst into tears, but I managed to keep my face straight as I stared down at the little man.

"Detention. Tonight. Now, out!" He pointed his wand viciously in the direction of the door. Ron let out a braying laugh and Flitwick whirled around to face him. "Mr. Weasley can escort you." The look on Ron's face was priceless. It almost made up for being in trouble.

Ron turned and sulked out of the room. Before I followed, I looked around and caught Malfoy's eye. He smiled an amused smile and I returned the gesture almost against my will.

The "ten points from Gryffindor!" Flitwick shouted after us barely seemed to matter.

* * *

I slammed the door behind me and stood in front of Ron, arms folded across my chest. He just glared at me and popped up his shirt collar where the spiders' rampage had accidentally straightened it. God forbid he look decent for once in his life. "Well? Aren't you going to apologize?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "What do _I_ have to apologize for? _You're_ the one fucking Malfoy." Just like Ron to jump to conclusions before looking out for a place to land.

"Ron, what in the bloody hell are you talking about? He asked me to Hogsmeade, that doesn't mean that we're… having _intercourse_," I whispered the last word, more so for my pride's sake than for fear there was anyone listening nearby. Fucking Malfoy? A shudder or horror passed through me just thinking the words. But why would that be something I needed to apologize to _Ron _for? "Besides," I continued to a chastised Ron, "I haven't even replied to his offer yet."

Ron's eyes lit up and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I cut him off tersely. "See you at detention." I pushed past him and walked down the hallway in the direction of the library.

* * *

I was startled awake by the loud noise of books being dropped on the desk, which I happened to be resting my head on in the pretense of studying with my eyes closed. My head shot up and collided with Harry's. Today just wasn't a good day for him... or his face.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" I whispered frantically, remembering to keep my voice down just in time. I placed my hand over his the bridge of his nose where I had hit him and pressed down. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mione, but it's a bit hard to breathe with your hand over my face," he complained in a pinched voice.

I smiled and removed my hand. "Sorry," I said again meekly.

Harry shrugged and straightened his glasses. "I'll get over it." He pointed to the books he had set on the table. "You left your stuff in class."

"Thanks, Harry," I replied automatically as I stealthily searched the front cover of my Potions book for Malfoy's note, hoping Harry wouldn't notice too much if I panicked upon finding it missing.

"Erm," he began uncertainly, causing me to look up, a feeling of dread making my stomach drop to the floor two levels down. "I found this… interesting note." He pulled the wrinkled parchment from his pocket and held it out to me, pinched between two fingers as if the paper itself might give him some sexually transmitted disease.

I snatched the note from his hand and crumpled it up, holding it tightly in my lap, fully intending on burning the wretched thing in the common room fireplace the first chance I got before it got me into trouble with anyone else.

"Is that why Ron is mad?" Harry asked quietly.

I couldn't decide what the strained look on his face meant. All I could do was nod. "You're not mad too, are you? I haven't even said yes or no yet."

Harry shook his head fiercely. "Of course I'm not mad, Mione. I have half a brain. Ron on the other hand…" he trailed off.

I laughed uneasily, still wary at this unexpected acceptance.

He sighed and leaned down to give me a quick hug. "Do what you think is right," he said before turning and walking away, mumbling a quick, "see you at dinner," before exiting the library.

I swear Harry has been spending way too much time talking to Dumbledore. That sentence was just about as vague as they come.

* * *

Five minutes into detention that night and I'd already decided that being a troublemaker was well worth the punishment. We had until midnight to rid all the classrooms on the third floor of spiders. We couldn't use wands, and Ron had to serve his time upside down, squashing the spiders on the ceiling.

I'd hear his occasional squawks of terror from my vantage point on terra firma and smile to myself as I happily slapped at a nest of spiders in the corner with a rolled up _Daily Prophet_. Rita Skeeter scowled at me from the cover, which made the task that much more enjoyable.

"Well, I'm done down here!" I called up to Ron after about an hour of spider hunting. "I'll go ahead and start on the next room. Don't worry, I'll save the cobwebs on the ceiling just for you." He glared at me as I skipped into the hall…

And ran smack into Draco Malfoy.

I bit my tongue to keep from crying out in surprise. After a quick glance over my shoulder found Ron still upside down with his back to me, trying to shake the spiders from his hair with feminine squeals of terror, I shoved Malfoy around the corner and out of Ron's sight.

"What are you doing sulking around in the corridors, Malfoy?" I spat, hoping to sound contemptuous, but only succeeding in sounding like someone had just sneaked up on me and I could barely think straight. Which was true, but I, being a vain, little thing, didn't want Malfoy to know.

He laughed and put his hand on the wall above my shoulder, leaning down until he was just a few inches from my face. "I was coming to get you out of detention, actually."

I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh at the fact that his breath tickled my nose. It was minty. A refreshing change to what I was used to smelling emanating from my other guy friends. Perhaps Malfoy actually brushed his teeth… What a novel concept. I'll have to mention it to Harry.

"Oh yes? And how were you planning on doing that?" I retorted.

He held up a piece of paper with tiny red scrawl on it. "You already have detention with Snape." Malfoy smiled slowly and for the first time, I noticed a dimple in his left cheek that made him actually look, dare I say it, cute, in a rodent-like way.

I couldn't help smiling too. "Is that so?" He nodded. "Well, may I ask what I was doing to deserve such a harsh punishment?"

"Public display of affection. I told you we needed a better place to snog than the supply room." He laughed quietly and I rolled my eyes again and slipped out from underneath his arm, lest he get the wrong impression of me.

"So where am I supposed to serve this detention?" I asked him.

Malfoy turned and shrugged. "I'm open to suggestions… My place, your place… I've heard that the prefects' bathroom is lovely this time of night." His grin widened.

"How about the grounds?" I hope that didn't sound _too_ suggestive.

"Well, it's no prefects' bathroom, but I think it will do." He held his hand out for me to take, but I linked my arm around his instead and gave him an innocent smile. His own smile fell a little but he corrected himself quickly. "Shall we?"

* * *

We sat down on the grass looking out over the lake, our backs resting against a large tree. Malfoy scooted closer to me and I scooted away, complaining that a root was digging into my back. I don't think he noticed that all the roots were securely tucked underground and the only thing interfering with my comfort was him and his close proximity to my body.

"Why did you get me out of detention?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Felt like it. The way I see it, the Weasel deserves all the punishment."

I sighed. "He has a name, you know, and it's not 'Weasel'." I said the words by reflex, but didn't really mean them.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. _Ron_ deserves all the punishment."

I smiled in satisfaction "I agree."

We sat in silence a few more moments, I enjoying the fresh night breeze and trying to ignore the slight briny tinge to the air from the lake, and Malfoy trying to ooze his way towards me, centimeter by centimeter.

"Draco, I think I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend."

"You only _think_ you'd love to?"

"Okay. I'm _positive_ I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend." I looked down at my hands, hoping that it was too dark for him to see me blush.

I felt something cold brush my cheeks and realized that it was his fingers. He took my chin gently and lifted my head up so that I was forced to look at him. He leaned in and…

I pulled away. He looked… shocked, to tell the truth. And maybe just a bit disappointed.

"You don't kiss on the first date?" he asked, just a hint of the old Draco Malfoy contempt seeping back into his voice.

"No, I do, I mean, I will. It's just…" I paused and a smile slowly crept to my lips. "This isn't a date. It's detention, remember?"


	8. Lesson Seven

**a/n: Maybe this chapter will clear up some… doubts…  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. T-T

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_Lesson seven: She has a name. _

And it's not the name of your last girlfriend.

* * *

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" Ron leaned against the bathroom wall, his hands in his pockets. Something banged in the corridor and he jumped, his wand drawn and at the ready. When the door didn't open, he exhaled and shoved his wand away.

"Calm down, Ron," Harry said, his head emerging from the bathroom stall briefly."Since when are you afraid of getting into a little trouble?"

"I'm not afraid of the teachers finding out, I'm afraid of _Hermione_ finding out."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "This was all your idea, remember?"

"Yes," Ron agreed. "But to be honest, I though you'd talk me out of it, not help me."

The brunette rolled his eyes. "What's one more broken rule? We're already going to Hell." He smiled wryly at the sick look on Ron's face and opted to change the subject. "Did you get the hair?"

Ron nodded and pulled a plastic baggie with three platinum blonde hairs in it from his jacket pocket. He handed the bag to Harry, who quickly disappeared back into the stall.

"How'd you manage to get them?" Harry asked, a hint of amazement in his voice.

"You don't want to know." He shook his head. "But I must say that Malfoy has some strange grooming habits…"

Harry snickered. After a few moments, he came out of the stall, holding a small vial. "It's lucky that Snape had some already brewed in the Potions closet, eh?"

Ron sighed. "Yes, and we're going to be punished severely once he finds it missing."

Harry swatted Ron's statement away as if it were a pesky bug. "What else is new? At least this gives him a reason to torture us."

The other boy shrugged and stared at the silver liquid in the vial. "So," he looked back up at his friend. "What's the plan?"

* * *

I looked at my wrist, and then realized that I hadn't put my watch on that morning. But watch or no watch, by my innate sense of time, I could tell that Malfoy was at least a good fifteen minutes late for our… date.

He had said to meet at The Three Broomsticks at twelve. I was half a glass into a lukewarm butterbeer and still no Malfoy. I couldn't say that I was all that upset, but one thing's for sure: Hermione Granger _never_ gets stood up.

"Erm… hey… pretty lady…" came a smooth voice from behind me. Draco Malfoy sat down in the seat opposite mine and motioned Madam Rosmerta for a butterbeer. I was more surprised by his eloquent use of "hey, pretty lady" than the fact he had arrived so suddenly and silently. No, after years of sulking around corridors waiting for Harry to happen by so he'd have an excuse to be a prick, I was already sure Malfoy was an excellent sneaker.

"You know, it's rude to look at other women whilst on a date," I said casually, taking a sip of my drink.

Malfoy literally tore his eyes from Madam Rosmerta and looked at me, a faint pink tinge coming to his usually pallid cheeks. "Right, sorry." I waited until Madam Rosmerta came to the table and set his butterbeer in front of him with a small smile. He mumbled a quick thank you in the general direction of the tabletop.

"Why were you late?" No sense in beating around the bush.

Malfoy looked flustered. "Well, I, erm… ran into _Potter_ in the hall and had to… call him a faggot. " He jerked as if something had struck him and hissed, "_Harry!_"

"Is that so?" I mused pushing my mug back and forth across the table before me, wondering why he was behaving so strangely and why he had corrected himself without me bringing it up. "Well you're here now, I guess," I said, changing the subject with a congenial smile. "What did you have in mind for today?"

Malfoy brushed his hand through his hair and then pulled away suddenly, looking at his hand in confusion. He seemed to bring himself back and finished swiping his hair from his face methodically. "Well," he began after sometime, "I can't really stay out too long. Maybe only another thirty minutes or so."

I snorted, causing him to jump. "What, will you turn into a pumpkin if you're not back by one o'clock?"

He smiled, a little of his suaveness returning. "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

Outside, we walked side-by-side. But it was the kind of side-by-side that's friendly, not the amoeba-like oozing into my personal bubble he was all about the other night. In fact, I would almost say he was afraid to be too close to me. So naturally, I reached out and took his hand to test my theory.

He stiffed immediately, but relaxed after a few moments.

I laughed. "One would think you've never held a girl's hand before, Draco."

He cringed, but then corrected himself and gave a hollow laugh that was supposed to sound mocking. "I was just surprised…"

We ended up in front of the Shrieking Shack.

"Have you ever been in there?" I asked him.

Malfoy nodded. "Sure tons of times with Harr…" he trailed off into a lung-wracking cough and looked over his shoulder into the woods a few paces away. He recovered and asked, "Have you?"

I smiled wistfully and nodded. My eyes floated over to the crooked building. "I know it's not haunted, but I still can't stand being in there."

Malfoy gave a short bray of laughter that was very Ron-like in pitch. He snapped his mouth shut and looked very befuddled indeed. "I think I need to be heading back to the castle now," he said. His voice sounded different, scratchy, as if he were making sound lower on purpose.

Once again, I looked down at my empty wrist. With an impatient sigh, I looked back up at Malfoy. "It can't be more than quarter 'till."

He shrugged and gave me a shy half-smile and somewhat reluctantly made to drop my hand, but I held on to his tighter.

"Wait!" I pulled him back to me. "It's officially our first date… Do you still want that kiss?"

Malfoy looked surprised, then angry, then he seemed to consider my offer. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. It wasn't at all like I was expecting, not that I was really expecting anything spectacular. It was just a kiss, nothing more. He appeared to not want to take it any further, which was just fine with me.

After a few seconds, he drew back and stared down at me goofily. I laughed softly, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks and looked down at our clasped hands. Looking up, something caught my attention.

"Oh, you've got a bit of red in your hair. Here, let me get it."

And as I reached up towards his head, he pushed me away violently. "No, no, that's okay. I just remembered that I have a potion brewing… I should go see to that before it boils over." He turned and began to dash away. "I had a lovely time, 'Mione!" he called as he disappeared into the forest.

Crossly, I sat down on a fallen tree and rested my chin in my hands. _From 'Mudblood' to 'Mione' in less than a week...

* * *

_I found Harry and Ron lounging in the common room upon my early return from Hogsmeade. I knew something was up: Ron looked like he was _actually_ reading a legitimate book. Not one of those moronic Quidditch manuals. Something called "_A Travesty Called Life: the Memoir of a House-elf called Gibby_". Yes, something was definitely up.

"I see you're back early," Harry noted. Ron started like he hadn't noticed me come in, he was so engrossed in his book, but he was always a rubbish actor.

"I see you didn't go to Hogsmeade," I countered, indicating both of them. "Have fun here on your own?"

Harry shrugged and glanced at Ron. "We managed."

I went to sit next to Harry on the couch in front of the fire and propped my legs up in his lap. "How was your date?" he asked.

Ron didn't even flinch. In fact, he looked like he was about to burst into laughter at any moment.

I raised an eyebrow imperiously. "Well, if you don't want to hear it, then I suggest you leave," I spat at him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender and went back to his book with a shake of his head.

"Fine then." I turned back to Harry. "I had a great time. We went to The Three Broomsticks, and then to the Shrieking Shack… well, we just kinda stood outside for a bit. Draco was acting very strange…" Ron made a face. "And then he kissed me and left. Said something about an over-boiled potion…"

Harry and Ron were silent.

"I said he _kissed _me… And there's no hysterics or anything? No hexes or broken furniture?" I laughed mirthlessly to myself. "If I had know you two would be this calm about it, I would have kissed him the other night." Ron blanched. Now _that_ was the reaction I was looking for.

"Just out of pure curiosity, what was it like?" Harry asked, leaning forward conspiratorially. I thought I saw Ron's eyes flicker to the other boy, but Harry paid him no attention, so neither did I.

"Well," I began, unsure how to explain the lack of feeling the kiss left me with, "it felt a bit like kissing Ron, to be honest."

"What's that mean?" Harry asked. Ron still had is head down in the pretense of reading, but I could feel him staring intently at me from under his lashes.

"It means I didn't feel anything. It was just a 'friend' kiss."

Harry looked confused. "You didn't feel anything because it was Malfoy? Or because he's a bad snogger?"

I thought a moment. "Maybe a bit of both… Ron, you haven't turned a page in ten minutes, if you're having trouble with a word, just sound it out."

Ron snapped the book shut and glared at me so hard, I could practically feel the proverbial daggers piercing my skin. Throwing the book to the ground, he stood and stomped up the stairs to the dormitories. Presently, I heard his door slam shut.

Harry looked at me. "He might have overreacted a little."

I was lost in thought. "Yes, but about the wrong part…"

Without another word, I stood and exited the common room.

* * *

"Ron, you git, she _knows_!" Harry shouted, storming into the dormitory.

Ron sat up on his bed where he had flopped after his grand exit. "Who's fault do you think that is? 'Oh, I'm Harry Potter, and I don't even care that my best friend is dating my arch nemesis. Why, I think I'd like to invite them over for lunch!'" he mocked, waving his hands in the air and sounding nothing at all like Harry.

Harry folded his arms, "Well, _you're _the one who had to go and snog her!"

"What would Malfoy have done?" Ron practically shrieked."I couldn't have just left her standing there."

"It's a good thing she hadn't kissed him already, otherwise she'd have been able to tell the difference."

"Oh, and since when are you an expert on snogging Malfoy?"

Harry paled. "I just figured he must be pretty good by now. He's had his share of girlfriends. Oh, and by the way, thanks for calling me a faggot in front of my best friend, I really appreciated that."

Ron snorted. "Come on, Harry, I didn't mean it! And I think you got me back. I'm gonna have a bruise on my shin from where you punched me for weeks!"

Harry sighed, ready to change the subject. "Have you let Malfoy out of the trunk yet?"

Ron nodded. "I had to convince Neville that it was a boggart and my worst fear was Draco Malfoy when he saw me opening it to take Malfoy's shoes. I think he believed me..."

Harry nodded and went to sit down on the corner of his bed. "_I'd_ believe you."

After a few moments of silence, Ron said, "So now we wait... and pray that Hermione doesn't find out."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "She probably already has."


	9. Lesson Eight

**a/n: Sorry for the long wait guys, but here it is, the next chapter!! I promise to update more often now that school is out.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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_Lesson eight: Guys are always wrong_.

Enough said.

* * *

_If I were a Malfoy, where would I sulk_? I pondered as I walked the corridors aimlessly, by all appearances. I looked for him in the dining hall, Quidditch pitch, and the area surrounding, but not too close to, the Slytherin dungeons, but all that earned me was a stubbed toe due to sneaking around corners so unskillfully. How on earth does he do it?

As I turned to maneuver another corner, making sure to watch my feet this time to avoid any further injury, I was surprised to find my face against someone's chest. Judging by the manly smell of the shirt my nose was pressed to, the person was none other than the very same I had spent my entire afternoon looking for.

I looked up at Malfoy, trying to ignore the grimace of confusion on his face as he stared down at his torso at the space where my head had so recently occupied. "I've been looking for you!" I said in exasperation.

"And I you," he said absently, wiping away the imaginary grime my face had inadvertently left on his shirt. "Your friends have some serious explaining to do."

"What happened?" I asked eagerly.

Malfoy's nose crinkled as he recounted his story of that morning. "I was on my way to the courtyard to meet you when out of nowhere, I was accosted by a rabid Weasley brandishing a Beater's club. I'm assuming it was the male one, unless the girl's gotten significantly less attractive since the last time I looked…" He rubbed his temple where one could see a purplish bruise just barely concealed with a simple Glamour charm.

I pushed the comment about Ginny being attractive from my mind in favour of the image of Ron beating Malfoy senseless while screaming the most feminine battle cry imaginable, which is probably quite similar to what had actually occurred.

Malfoy sneered and said haughtily, "The next thing I remember, I was sprawled very unceremoniously on the floor by the infirmary." He eyed me warily and leaned forward in a very accusatory stance. "Did you know anything about this?"

"Beforehand, no," I replied, folding my arms across my chest. "But after the date, I had my suspicions…"

"Wait." Malfoy's eyes widened slightly in what I could only assume was his interpretation of surprise. "You went on a date?" I nodded. "With whom?"

I sighed, more than a bit frustrated by the fact that he didn't seem to be on the same page as me. "With _you_. Or someone who had taken a Polyjuice Potion to _look_ like you…" I trailed off, leaving Malfoy to reach his own brilliant conclusion.

"_Weasel_," he said viciously and I didn't correct his use of the rude nickname as I might have once. "I _thought_ someone had gone through my toiletries!" he continued raving. "I had blamed Nott, but now it makes sense… I suppose I'll have to apologize for magicking all the hair from his body next time I see him…" he said almost to himself.

My lips turned down, but I continued on with a nod as if he hadn't spoken. "Exactly. And I'd bet anything Harry wasn't too far, hiding under that bloody invisibility cloak."

Malfoy shook his head and exhaled loudly through his nose. After sweeping his gray eyes around the corridor in frustration, he looked back at me. "So what do we do?"

I scoffed at him. "We get back at them. I don't know about you, but I don't take kindly to being made a fool."

Malfoy smiled in agreement. "You have any ideas?"

I shrugged noncommittally and gave him a small smile. "I might have one."

Malfoy's own grin widened. "Please, do tell…"

* * *

"Are you sure this is right?"

Malfoy looked down at me in confusion. "Why are you asking me? This was all your idea."

I laughed uncomfortably, the noise echoing down the empty corridor and brutally reminding me that I have one of the most annoying laughs I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. "Of course. And since when do you care about what's right?"

His lips twitched at the corners like he wanted to smile, then thought better of it. "Never."

"Well that's settled then," I said resolutely, wishing I felt as sure as I sounded. I reached out for Malfoy's hand, feeling the coolness of his fingers as they intertwined around mine.

"Shall we?" he asked, not waiting for me to respond as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and led me inside. I remembered just in time to look happy to be with him instead of looking like I might vomit at any given moment.

I had imagined the scene nearly a million times in my head, and each time began the same way; all the students would stare at us as the chatter slowly died down and was replaced by shock and confusion, and Malfoy and I would have to pretend that he didn't even notice.

But not a single head turned in our direction. Even Ron with his two-second attention span and knack for being easily distracted didn't look up from his food. Although I didn't really expect him to, at least at first. For dinner was Shepherd's Pie, Ron's favourite. Not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could pry the fork from Ron's fingers on Shepard's Pie night.

I let out a breath and relaxed a bit now that our less-grand-than-anticipated grand entrance was over.

"Where shall we sit, love," Malfoy purred in my ear, seemingly trying to keep the conversation quiet, but talking loud enough for the students closest to them to hear, as was the plan. What good would it do to let our show go completely unnoticed?

I shrugged dramatically and leaned into Malfoy's side. "We can sit with your friends today, Draco. I don't mind." I smiled up at him and he returned the gesture with apparent genuine sincerity before pulling me towards the Slytherin table where Blaise Zabini and Crabbe were already making room between them.

On the outside I appeared to be totally at ease as I slid onto the bench next to Crabbe, but my heart was racing. And the press of Malfoy's body against mine wasn't helping matters. There had to be more room on the other side of him than he was letting on. I reminded myself that it was all just part of the game and tried to be a bit less neurotic.

Blaise reached around Malfoy and offered his hand. "Blaise Zabini," he said smoothly. "I know your name."

I didn't remind him of the fact that I already knew his as well. Instead I replied as flippantly as possible, "Well, I have an actual name that has nothing to do with being a 'bitchy know-it-all- Mudblood who's friends with Harry Potter'," arbitrarily quoting from insults I had received in the past.

Blaise withdrew his hand. "So she's clever as well as pretty," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. I saw Malfoy smile with satisfaction out of the corner of my eye.

A cough that sounded very much like a small dog accidentally being trod upon forced me to turn my attention to the persons across the table. Pansy Parkinson and her friend Millicent Bulstrode were staring at me like something unpleasant they had just stepped in and now had the unfortunate task of scraping off their trainers by hand. I nodded at them as politely as I could manage.

"So this is your new plaything, Draco?" Pansy asked with a sneer of distaste. Malfoy glared at her and pulled me closer protectively, for which I was surprisingly grateful. Pansy laughed and Millicent joined in after a hesitant look at her friend. "Just watch out, honey," Pansy said to me sarcastically as she stood from the table. "He's all hands." She wiggled her fingers as she turned and walked away without a second glance, Millicent following behind her in an indignant huff.

"Sometimes, I'd really like to smack that bitch," Blaise said casually as he sipped at his goblet of pumpkin juice. The blasé tone he had taken almost made me want to laugh despite myself.

* * *

"I don't want you to be too concerned, but Hermione's sitting with Malfoy."

Harry dropped his fork. It hit his plate and clattered loudly on the porcelain. "What?" he whispered as he turned to Ginny.

The redhead appeared not to have heard him. She stared across the room, straining to see the new couple from around other students' heads. "They look pretty cozy. Did their date go well? I haven't talked to 'Mione in ages…" she mused.

"This isn't good," Harry muttered, following her gaze.

Ginny turned her attention back to him. "Why not? You said yourself it doesn't matter to you whom she chooses to date."

"Right, it doesn't matter to _me_," Harry began.

"But it matters to _Ron_…" Ginny finished with a glance to her brother who, thankfully, had his back to the Slytherin table and was too engrossed in a game of pea football with Neville to notice much of anything.

Harry sighed miserably. "And we had worked so hard to keep her and Malfoy apart…" He rested his chin in his hand.

"Like using a Polyjuice Potion to turn Ron into Malfoy and send him on the date instead?"

"Ye- Wait!" Harry stared at her and his eyes went wide. "How'd you know?"

"I needed to borrow a pair of Ron's robes for Quidditch practice and found Malfoy in his trunk. That, and your invisibility cloak was missing. I can put two and two together, Harry." She smiled at him knowingly and Harry blushed in return.

"It was Ron who bungled it," Harry began to explain. "He was supposed to be a complete arse to her on their date so _this_ didn't happen." He gestured to Hermione and Draco, who seemed to be enjoying their dinner and conversing happily with their table mates.

"But he ended up snogging her…"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course! Your first mistake was letting Ron take the potion."

Harry gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Ron's a guy and he fancies her- and don't say he doesn't, because we all know that's a bloody lie," Ginny interrupted herself after Harry had taken a breath to argue. He let the breath out loudly and let her continue unopposed. "Of course he's going to take any opportunity he has to snog her."

Harry shook his head and said with a groan, "You're right, Ginny."

She beamed. "Of course. I am a girl, after all."

"Really? Hadn't noticed."

With a gasp of feigned shock at Harry's jibe, she slapped him playfully on the shoulder before going back to her meal and trying to hide her blush behind her hands.


	10. Lesson Nine

**a/n: Only about a month between updates: It's a new record for me. On another note:  
OMG HALF-BLOOD PRINCE!!!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but if I did, I think the word "fuck" would make up a large percent of the word count in each book.  


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_Lesson nine: Some girls like to draw relationships out way past their breaking point. _

It's just in our nature to never let something go. So if you have the urge to end a relationship, it's best to just be straightforward and do it instead of mucking around, hoping she'll have the sense to drop you, because sometimes, it's not that easy.  
_

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_

I dropped Malfoy's hand as soon as we found ourselves absolutely alone. It had taken us a while to get there because both Pansy and Lavender had put aside their differences and teamed up to stalk us through the corridors, hiding behind various suits of armor and wall hangings, staring daggers at the back of my head, and whispering to each other about how I was so beneath the Slytherin Prince, I couldn't even shine his shoes with my spit.

My hand had tightened around Malfoy's when I had decided that enough was enough and turned to deliver the sneaking pair a clever hand gesture before tugging the "Slytherin Prince" down a hidden corridor and out of sight. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle a little in amusement whether at me or those other two, I wasn't sure.

I wiped my hand across the front of my skirt dramatically and stuck my tongue out at him. "Well, I'm glad that's over. It's been nice dating you. See you around sometime!"

He caught me by the shoulders as I tried to walk away quickly in the opposite direction and turned me back around to face him. "Now that wasn't _so_ bad, was it?" I conceded meekly and shook my head no. "Then I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat me like a leper," he continued, scowling.

"Fine," I said quietly, feeling particularly uncomfortable with the way his hands had started to sensuously slip from my shoulders to my biceps. "So I won't treat you like a leper anymore, but can I still treat you like a Slytherin? I was just getting used to it and everything..."

Malfoy exhaled forcefully through his nose, his nostrils flaring comically. "I suppose." His hands fell to his sides before settling themselves casually in the pockets of his pants. "But before we can go back to being mortal enemies, we need to finish what we've started."

"What do you mean?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. "I believe I just broke up with you when I said 'I'm glad that's over'." Some guys just don't get the hint!

"Well, we can't very well just appear together once and have _everyone_ notice." His pale eyebrows shot up and disappeared under his skillfully-tousled-and-gelled-to-stay-that-way fringe.

I stared at Malfoy quizzically for a brief moment before I understanding dawned on me. Groaning loudly, I threw my hands up in the air and let them drop heavily.

Malfoy took a step backwards, not expecting my reaction, and nodded his head with a tight-lipped smile.

"Stupid!" I rammed my palm into my forehead startling the Slytherin once again. "Of course _Ron_ wouldn't notice us! Damn Shepherd's Pie! That's the only meal where he's mindful of how much food he wastes trying to paint his shirtfront!"

Malfoy snickered. "Yes, well, it'll be impossible to ignore us if we show up at the party together tonight."

My brow crinkled in confusion. "Party? What party?"

He snorted and fixed me with a withering look that made me remember what it usually felt like to be around Draco Malfoy: Second rate.

"Honestly, Hermione, do you ever get out?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the use of my given name in this private setting, but did my best to answer his question in what appeared to be a sincere way, and combined with an indignant sniff, who was he to disprove me?

"As a matter of fact, yes, Draco, I _do_ go out occasionally."

Malfoy leered at me. "Wandering the corridors at night doesn't count."

Whoops. He's got me there…

With a roll of my eyes that plainly said his snide comments weren't worth my time, I tersely repeated my previous question. "What party?"

He gave me a dazzling smile, nearly blinding me with the pearly luminescence of his teeth and their close proximity to my face. I wondered wildly, and not for the first time, I might add, what brand of toothpaste he used. My parents as dentists would certainly approve of his almost-compulsive teeth brushing, if nothing else.

"Ravenclaw is having a party in their common room tonight in honor of their victory against Hufflepuff in last week's Quidditch match," he informed me stiffly. I got the distinct impression that he was none too pleased with Ravenclaw getting that much closer to winning the House Cup, but was up for any excuse to party.

I must have made a face, because the next moment he was frowning and saying, "Don't tell me you didn't know there was a match last week."

Okay, so I'd lie and tell him that of course I knew there had been a match last week and that I'd have to be living under a rock not to know.

"I know," I snapped. "Spectacular catch by…" I searched my memory for the name of the current Ravenclaw Seeker, but after Cho Chang's graduation, I hadn't really followed that particular house team all that closely. "Well, you know," I finished lamely with a slightly embarrassed smile and a shrug.

Malfoy hummed, clearly not believing one word I said.

"The party starts at ten," he said as he began to walk away from me down the corridor. "But I'll be by the Gryffindor common room at eight o'clock sharp, so make sure the little Weasel isn't anywhere where he might see me before we're ready."

"Why so early?" I called after him.

"You can't show up at a party looking like _that_," Malfoy said with a shake of his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and I was the only one who wasn't aware of my own lack of style.

I looked down at my gray jumper, wondering what was wrong with it, besides the fact that it was a little nondescript and a good four years old. "And you're going to help me _how_?" I asked dubiously.

Malfoy just smiled deviously and turned a corner.

Full of mysteries, that one.

* * *

At seven forty-five, I found myself anxiously pacing the common room wringing my hands. My constant movement had been so distracting and out of place that it had even drawn Ginny's attention, which was hard to do when she was in Harry's presence.

Calmly and without a word, the redhead stood and went over to me where I stood fidgeting and adjusting the decorative clock on the mantle above the fireplace. She gently touched my shoulder and I jumped, nearly knocking the clock to the floor, but righting it just in time.

Ginny laughed. "What's wrong, Mione? You look really nervous."

"What an astute observation," I snapped, looking past her to the table she had just vacated and where Harry and Ron still sat, heads bent low over their Potions books, quills moving rapidly across rolls of parchment. Periodically, one of their hands would reach towards the middle of the table slowly and select a candy from the diminishing pile there and draw back, taking a detour to their respective mouths along the way. I smiled inwardly: Ron had a bit of chocolate smeared on the tip of his nose.

Ginny frowned at me looking particularly sad with her big, expressive eyes. "Sorry. I was just asking."

"Oh, Ginny!" I sighed and hugged her briefly. "It's just that I'm having a-" I interrupted myself to think of the proper word to use. "I'm having an _interesting _day," I concluded.

Her face lit up and she cast a glance over her shoulder before taking my hand and pulling me towards the couch behind us. She plopped down and I followed suit as she tucked her legs under her and adjusted herself so that she was facing me. "I bet! I saw you and Malfoy-er-Draco at dinner." She poked me in the shoulder playfully.

I gave her a pained look. "Yeah... Did you know there's going to be a party in the Ravenclaw tower tonight?"

Ginny opened her mouth, most likely to reprimand me for changing the subject when she was so keen on talking about me and Malfoy, but I didn't give her the chance.

"Well, Draco asked me to go and he's going to be here in-" I looked over at the clock and felt a fresh wave of panic rush through me "_nine_ minutes. Ron can't know he's here, much less that he's going to be in my room."

Ginny stared at me, her eyes growing bigger by the minute. I could already tell her mind was jumping from one ridiculous conclusion to the next.

"Calm down: He's just helping me pick out an outfit." I assume...

The littlest Weasley gave me a sly smile and patted my hand. "Leave it to me. I'll get Ron _and _Harry out of your hair until you're done."

I felt perfectly at ease for the first time that day. "Thanks, Gin," I said with a smile and with that, she was up, skipping across the room towards Harry and Ron.

"I'm tired of doing homework," Ginny announced loudly, making both Harry and Ron look up from their papers. "What do you say about a quick pick-up game of Quidditch? Two-on-one? I know the charm to turn the lights on in the stadium..."

The boys looked at each other doubtfully and in that brief second where they were preoccupied, Ginny winked at me from over her shoulder.

"I don't know, Gin," Harry said gloomily. "I should really finish this before the party tonight..." He tapped his quill against his parchment and I wondered why Harry hadn't mentioned the party to me, even offhandedly in passing conversation.

"_I'm_ for it, so's long as I'm on the team of two," Ron said throwing his quill down and slamming his book shut.

Harry sighed, but gave the two redheads a big smile. "Oh, all right. Boys against girls."

Ron made a pumping gesture with his right fist and stood from the table, not bothering to tidy the mess of candy wrappers that lay next to his inkwell as he galloped past me and to the portrait hole. Harry and Ginny laughed at him as they gathered Harry's trash and dumped it in the bin near the work area.

"Hey, Mione," Harry said, drawing my eyes away from the clock above the fireplace and towards him. "Want to even up the teams?"

I shook my head. "You know I'm rubbish on a broom," I said in response. "But you guys have fun!" I called as Harry and Ginny followed after Ron to the portrait hole, Harry shrugging his shoulders at my weak excuse, Ginny giving me a wide smile, and Ron generally ignoring my existence.

"My closet's your closet!" Ginny told me happily before her head disappeared through the portrait hole after the other two.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips and I was allowed to wait for Malfoy's arrival in peace.


	11. Lesson Ten

**a/n: OMG I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG! Almost a year between updates is just unacceptable. But I'm finally done with school and, though I'm not going to make any promises, I should have more time to at least complete the fanfics I've started, this one included. This chapter is short, but it's something. Once again, I apologize for my absence.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... but I do own Tom Felton's autograph 3

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_Lesson ten:_ _Don't assume you know what she wants. Ever. _

If you do, you'll probably be wrong. However, don't be surprised when she expects you to be a mind reader, which, of course, you are not.

_

* * *

_

I suppose were I to look back on it, I hadn't had to wait for Malfoy very long. But when you're nervous and your hands are sweating and it seems like the clock is taking much too long to make a complete circuit, waiting even an extra five minutes can seem like an eternity. So I had just begun to give up hope that he was even coming, if you could call it hope, when a knock on the portrait hole made me almost wet myself with surprise.

I jumped up from the couch and scuttled to the door, furtively looking over my shoulder as I did so. But before I opened the portrait, I wiped my hands on a jacket hanging from the coat rack. (With satisfaction, I noted that it happened to be Ron's favourite Chudley Cannons sweatshirt.) Sweaty palms are such a turn off... I stopped myself mid-thought. Did it really matter if it was a turn off? Wasn't my ultimate goal to _not _be dating Draco Malfoy? Then why was I concerned about his feelings toward sweaty palms? All these thoughts whirling around in my brain made my nerves go berserk and my palms start sweating all over again.

Malfoy gave another louder knock. Impatient, that one. No matter. I gave my hands another thorough wiping on Ron's sweatshirt before finally opening the door. My breath caught in my throat. Draco Malfoy was standing there in the corridor. He was sneering at cursing at the Fat Lady and was making a horrible face, but I could still appreciate his superb bone structure and perfect skin. Really, he was much more beautiful than any male had any right to be. I felt a little sad and a little jealous at the same time, to think that he would make a more attractive female than I did. Life was so unfair!

"You're nothing more than a second-rate Crivelli if I've ever seen one," he spat. The Fat Lady gasped in horror. I didn't care. He was being downright awful, but all I could see was the black button-down that hugged his Seeker's body quite nicely. My eyes didn't travel lower than that; I refused to let them. Remember, I never wanted to date Draco Malfoy. I swallowed and turned my attentions back to his face. Nope, I never wanted... _Oh, Merlin, he's looking at me now... _this...

"Hey, Hermione," he said to me, his scowl softening somewhat. "You Gryffindors should invest in higher quality art. I understand your lot are fairly poor, but I'm sure you could take up a collection and have this fat-arse removed in no time." Without another word, he strode past me into the common room. I stood where I was just a moment, staring into the corridor. I was barely aware of the Fat Lady sniffling or the fact that Malfoy was inspecting every inch of the common room with a critic's eye and undoubtedly making snooty remarks under his breath.

I cleared my throat. "Er, I'm sorry he's offended you," I said quietly to the Fat Lady.

She swallowed a sob and replied, "It's n-n-not your fault, de-dearie. All though, I thought you h-h-had more s-sense than to be... _cavorting _with Slytherins... What a nasty little b-boy! Crivelli! Ha! I'll have you know - !" I shut the door and didn't feel the least bit sorry about it. I probably would later when I was stranded alone out in the corridor all night because the Fat Lady was too "preoccupied with other matters" to come and let me in.

"It's nice to see you," Malfoy was against my back, breathing on my neck. With his hand, he brushed the hair from my shoulder and ran his fingers down my neck. The nerve of him! Didn't he know what he was doing to me? I shivered and tried to say something sarcastic, or at least something coherent, but all I could think about was that black shirt he was wearing and how nice he looked in it, but how much nicer he would look with it off... _No, stop it! Stop it! Stop imagining Malfoy naked!_

"Mmmhmph," I said to him in what I hoped was an alluring manner.

Malfoy laughed and pulled back. I sighed in relief. "Well, are you ready to slut it up?"

I turned around and folded my arms across my chest. "And what exactly does that mean, 'slut it up'?"

He smirked. "What do you think it means?" He held out his hand to me and I felt my knees go weak. _Stop it, knees! Just stop! You're being foolish!_ But my knees weren't listening and neither was my heart, which was hammering in my chest.

I groaned and took his hand. Hopefully, my palms weren't too sweaty... I said as Malfoy began to lead me up the stairs to the dormitory, "If it means you're going to try dressing me up like a trollop, you're in luck. Ginny has graciously let me take advantage of her exceedingly revealing wardrobe." I gave the back of his head a huge grin... And then it suddenly occurred to me to ask how he knew where the dormitories were...

But I didn't get the chance because we were at the landing and he had stopped and was looking down at me. His eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned forward. "So you think Ginny Weasley is a bit of a slut," he said softly.

I tried to stare him in the eye and not look at his lips. "It's just so Harry will notice her," I explained quietly. I wasn't about to tell Draco Malfoy, of all people, that I thought my best friend sometimes dressed in a way that was unbecoming... Even if it was the truth.

"But that kind of thing doesn't work on Harry." I nodded in agreement. Malfoy dropped my hand and I immediately wished he hadn't simply because now that hand was lurking somewhere outside my range of vision and I had no idea if or when it might strike out and molest me. "And you, don't you crave attention sometimes?" he asked.

I shuffled my feet and gave into the urge to wipe my hands on my skirt. "I suppose."

Malfoy smiled. A genuine smile. Not a smirk. My knees threatened to give way again, but I chided them silently and they remained steady for the most part. "Well tonight's the night," he told me. "You're going to get all the attention you've ever wanted." That hand that I had feared might grope me suddenly appeared against my cheek. Malfoy held my face for just a moment and I thought that if he tried to kiss me right then and there, well, I might just let him. Even though I most definitely did _not _want him to... Maybe...

But he didn't. He let his hand drop and said to me, "Will you show me to Ginny's room, and we can get started."

* * *

"I wonder where Hermione is!" Ginny yelled over the sound of screeching emanating from the giant speakers towering in the corner of the Ravenclaw common room.

Ron looked at her. His brow furrowed. "What?" he yelled back.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione!" She mimed reading a large and boring book.

"Oh! Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. He shrugged and took a swig of butterbeer from the bottle in his hand. "Who cares?" A particularly busty Ravenclaw fifth year passed by in front of him and he excused himself to follow in her strawberry-scented wake.

Ginny looked despairingly over to where Harry was posted, leaning against a wall surrounded by a cluster of fawning girls. Yet, he seemed oblivious to the fact that each and every one of them were flirting their pants off... Literally. One of them had lost her pants and was undoubtedly drunk to the point of collapse, which she would have done sooner were she not hanging on to Harry's shoulder like a herpes-ridden parrot.

Ginny took a deep breath, downed the rest of her lukewarm butterbeer, slammed the bottle down on the table, and began to make her way over to Harry and his harem. But before she could take two steps, she collided with a familiar red dress and a less-than-familiar girl wearing it.

_Hey you bitch_, Ginny started to say,_ that's my dress you're wearing_, but she then realized who she was talking to and her angry expression was replaced by one of curious amazement.

"Hermione?"


End file.
